


A Dream of Spring

by mollymauks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BIG GAY SOFT BEEFCAKES WHO DESERVE HAPPINESS TOGETHER!!!, Bit of Fluff, Campaign 2, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Jester and Caduceus' tea: the ultimate healing combo, Jester can fix all, Jester uses her magical paint pot for good!, Post Episode 46!, Yasha's backstory was so sad!!, because there must be the angst with me, bit of angst, but it's not because I'M GAY AND SO ARE THEY, but she needed Jester to cheer her up so that is exactly what I gave her, i want to fight ashley, this could be read as friendship fic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: After Yasha confessed the sad truth of why she left her home, and what happened to her wife, Zuella, Jester uses her creativity and her new magical paint to make something to cheer her up.Jester's POV, some introspection and insight, and a smidge of Jester's thoughts on the rest of the Nein. because Jester is insightful af, in her own way, and I wanted to tap into that.“Do you- Do you think Zuella would like me?”Yasha thought for a moment, her features softening as she did so, “I think that she would,” she said, finally. “She liked things that made me happy. And you make me happy, Jester.”





	A Dream of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Episode 46 of Campaign 2! 
> 
> Title: if GRRM won't give me the books, I will rip off the titles for my own ends.

A Dream of Spring

Jester bounced onto her bed, legs crossed, and pulled her sketchbook towards her. She would have to draw for the Traveller all she had seen with Yasha, and the lightning ball, and how she had looked up in the mast, storm winds whipping her hear around her, those huge big skeletal wings blossoming behind her. It would be _awesome_ , and she knew the Traveller would appreciate it, but she had something to do first.

Careful as she could be, Jester pulled out her special pot of paint and the special paintbrush they had found on the ship with the grumpy guy, and the deckhand she had so _beautifully_ tattooed.

Tongue between her teeth, she began to create.

She concentrated as she had never concentrated before. This was important. She had to make it _perfect_. Every line, every detail, every stroke of colour was expertly crafted as she allowed the process to carry her away, as it had done so many times before.

This time, though, she kept herself anchored on Yasha.

She thought of her eyes, mismatched as they were, and the emotion in them when she had spoken of her wife.

A lot of people thought Yasha looked really scary with her big, bulging muscles, and that crazy huge sword she had. Jester had always thought there was something about her that looked sad. Now she knew what that was. But there was a softness in her, too, even after everything she had been through. It was in the eyes that you could see it, and Jester drew on that as she painted feverishly.

Halfway through her blooming masterpiece, she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

“What are you doing here, my Jester? Is this another gift for me?” The Traveller had come to her.

He had always been drawn in by her intense bursts of creativity. When she was little, he had told her there was power in it, in her imagination, her drive, her focus and passion. Now that she had her magic paint, there really was, and Jester knew just what to do with it.

“No, it’s not for you, Traveller,” she said, not looking up from what she was doing, but he expected that, so it was okay. He knew her, knew how consumed she could get by her painting. “I hope you don’t mind, but my friend Yasha is feeling sad right now, and I want to cheer her up.”

“Not at all. This is a great gift you have, the gift to make people smile, and feel good about themselves, about you. You should use it. But never forget-“

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she cut in, shaking her head and smiling, knowing what he was going to say. “You’ll always be my favourite!” he could be silly like that sometimes, always asking her that. He was her best friend! He had to know that by now.

“Very good,” he said, silkily, lightly caressing her hair with his hand. “Paint something pretty for me when you’re done, won’t you?” He said.

“Of course!” she replied brightly.

“She’s lonely, you know, my friend Yasha,” Jester explained as she painted. “She needs someone to be her friend, like I needed you when you found me,” she thought he would be pleased by that, how well she had learned from him. “I suppose she has her Storm Lord,” she mused, suddenly thoughtful, absently chewing on the end of her brush while she worked. “But I don’t think he seems very friendly if you know what I mean,” she added, continuing.

Jester cocked her head to one side, screwing up her memory, trying to picture exactly what she was painting in her mind’s eye, making sure she had every detail.

As she did, she continued to talk to the Traveller. He liked hearing all about her, he always had, even when no-one else had listened to her, he always had. She could tell him anything.  

“Beau told me she was lonely when she was little, too,” she went on quietly, feeling sad as she thought about it. Her melancholy seemed to bleed into her piece as the bright blues, and turquoises of Beau’s robes began putting colour into her work.

 “I think we’re all lonely, and lost, in different ways,” she said, softly. “Yasha lost her wife, and her home, and her tribe and just everything before the Storm Lord found her.”

She darkened the colour of her paint, and began using it to create shadows, and depth to her piece. Without that darkness, the drawing looked false, and hollow. When she had been little, she had only wanted to use the brightest of colours, without the ones that made her feel sad, the dark, cold colours. But she had grown up, and she knew now that life, like her art, needed that darkness, and those shadows, were necessary to make the bright colours pop and matter.

“Caduceus’ home is sick,” she went on,” and the colour softened as she thought of her new firbolg friend. The soft pastel greens and pinks melded with Yasha’s dark shadows, lightening them, and gentling them.

“He’d never even left it before!” she exclaimed, trying to imagine what it might have been like to live her whole life in a _graveyard_ full of dead people, trying to find the beauty and the creativity in that. But Caduceus had done it, she supposed, he’d done it well.

“He lived his whole life just in that graveyard, I mean, even I got to see Nicodranus when I was little. The world must feel so big to him, even though _he’s_ quite big, the world is much bigger. He must miss his home, and his family, just like I miss my mama.”

She frowned slightly as she thought of her mum. She was glad they had helped her, and taken care of the mean guy that had been harassing her, but she was sad they hadn’t been able to spend more time together.

Taking a deep breath, she made herself keep talking to the Traveller about her friends, rather than feeling sad about her mother. “Fjord lost his ship,” she said, and the soft pastel greens she had started with Caduceus darkened, and the deep sapphire blue of the ocean began to bleed in. “And he lost all his crew, and his friends, and he doesn’t seem to know _what_ to do now,” she said, drawing out sweeping wave-like shapes of green, and blue, and gold.

“Nott drinks quite a lot, because she’s afraid a lot, and that makes her feel brave,” she went on, the deep, rich ambers of her favourite liquors, and the mead they’d bought, and the bright golds, and silvers of the coins and trinkets she loved so much.

“Sometimes I think about what might have made her so afraid that she had to leave her home, and her clan, and everything,” Jester went on, shaking her head, “She’s so little, but she tries to take good care of all of us, and I wonder if that’s because no-one ever really took care of her.”

“And Caleb...” she said, sighing softly, “When I look into his eyes, I see ghosts,” she murmured, shivering slightly, in spite of the bright burning yellows, and oranges, and reds of his fire now filled her painting. “I don’t know who they are, or what happened to them, but they obviously haut him, and hurt him quite a lot.”

“And then we all lost Molly,” she said, sadly, as the lavender of his skin poured from her brush, followed by the whole rainbow that had been contained in his coat, and his laugh, and his love for soul, finally breathing real life into the piece. “He was a good man, a good friend, I liked him a lot. I still think about him, and get sad about him. But I don’t think he’d approve of that, so I try not to be but...It’s hard sometimes.”

She took a deep breath, moving to finish the piece, the details, drawing on everything she was thinking, and feeling.

“Losing people is hard. Sometimes I think maybe my mama was right, and I would have been better staying at home, where it was safe, and I couldn’t get hurt by people leaving, like she was...”She trailed off, thinking about all of her friends being sad was making _her_ sad.  

But then she brightened, a smile sparking across her face again, “We all needed a friend, and that’s why we found each other, and we’re all better now that we’re together.”

She looked down at what she was making, and though it made her sad, she was pleased that she could do it, and that there were friends in her life to do it for.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, looking up for the first time since she had started, “For helping me to find them.”

But he had gone.

The room was empty, but she knew he had heard. He was always with her.

Smiling, Jester redoubled her efforts and watched the paint glow before it popped into existence. She stared down at it, and smiled, proud of herself.

Getting up from her bed, she crept out of her cabin and along the hall as quietly as she could so as not to wake the others. When she got there, she saw a pale glow flickering from under Yasha’s door. She was still awake, as she had hoped.

“Yasha?” she called softly, knocking on the door. “Don’t worry, it’s only me, Jester, I promise I’m not a scary lightning ball in disguise!”

After the events of the day, she felt Yasha might need that reassurance. But then, if she _was_ a scary lightning ball in disguise that would be exactly what she would say.

Yasha didn’t seem to share that particular worry, however, because all she said was, “You can come in.”

Jester pushed the door ope, wincing slightly as the old hinges creaked. Avantika really hadn’t taken good care of her boat.

A single candle was flickering on a low table. Yasha was curled up, knees tucked against her chest, gazing out of the window at the distant storm that was disappearing into the distance. Lightning flashed, illuminating her face, making her look momentarily like some kind of heavenly angel that had gotten lost and begun walking among mortals. Then it passed, and she looked just like Yasha again.

When Jester sat down on the bed beside her and said, “I have something for you,” Yasha turned to look at her.

Jester thought her eyes looked red, as though she had been crying, but obviously she wasn’t going to say that. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with crying, especially if you were sad, but she knew Yasha would be embarrassed and she didn’t want to do that.

“You do?” Yasha said, blinking owlishly at her.

“Well,” Jester said, biting her lip and considering the matter, “I suppose technically it’s for Zuella? But it’s also for you to give to Zuella so...”

Having successfully confused herself into a corner, blushing, Jester thrust the flowers at Yasha without warning.

Yasha stared down at it while Jester chewed harder on her lip, suddenly hit by a wave of uncertainty about whether or not she had done the right thing.

She watched Yasha trace the edge of one of the delicate blossoms with a large finger, her touch surprisingly gentle. She could see grief, and sorrow, and something like awe in Yasha’s face, but she didn’t know what that _meant_ about her gift.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Jester burst out, “Do you like them?”

Yasha looked up at her slowly, away from the bouquet in her hands and blinked.

“I- Where- How did you get these?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

“I used my magic paint,” Jester replied in a small voice.

“You did that- You made _this_ for me?” she mumbled in quiet disbelief.

“Should I not have?” Jester said, “Oh! Oh, I made you more upset, didn’t I?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands over her mouth, “I was trying to cheer you up, I thought it would make you happy, but-“

“No,” Yasha interrupted, quietly but firmly, “No it did, I just...I can’t believe that you would do this for me.”

“Well of course,” Jester said, reaching out tentatively and placing her hand on Yasha’s shoulder. “You’re my friend, Yasha,” she said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “So you like them?” she blurted out, unable to stop herself.

“I do,” Yasha said, softly, still touching the delicate flower blossoms with wonder, “Thank you, Jester.”

“You’re welcome, Yasha.”

Then she saw Yasha frowning slightly, picking through the bouquet and examining the different types of flowers in the bunch. She bit her lip, hoping she would notice what she had done.

“These are...Molly’s flowers, aren’t they?” she said, softly, “From his tattoo?”

Jester nodding, growing more serious, “Yes, all the ones that were on his tattoo. I thought, maybe, this way, you could take him with you when you go to see Zuella next. I thought you’d like to tell her about him.”

A soft, sad smile tugged at Yasha’s lips as he nodded and said, “Yes, I would. I do not think she would know what to make of him.”

“He was a _lot_ ,” Jester agreed, nodding again, “But he was good, and he was your friend.”

“He was. He is,” Yasha said.

“Maybe!” Jester burst out, “Maybe they’re together right now, Zuella and Molly. And he’s, like, reading her fortune, and showing off with his swords, and making her laugh?”

“Perhaps,” Yasha murmured, slowly, “Yes, I would like that.”

“Then that’s how it is,” Jester said with finality.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Yasha said, quietly.

“What?”

“The best. About everything. And everyone,” Yasha said, looking al ittle baffled by this attitude.  

“Well, sure,” Jester said, shrugging, “I mean, I could think the worst all the time, but that would just make me sad, and I don’t like being sad. I would rather be happy!”  

Yasha was smiling softly, “I would tell her about you, too, Jester.”

Jester gasped, delighted, clapping her hands together, “What would you tell her? I mean, you’d have to tell her I helped you get some flowrs, and that I’m a really great cleric, and about the Traveller, and my painting, and that I’m really, really pretty, and really cool, and like, one of the best people you know, and-“

“You are one of the best people I know, Jester,” Yasha said, softly, but so sincerely that she stopped mid-flow.

“I mean, I do not know very many people,” Yasha added, frowning slightly, “But I think even if I did, you would still be one of the best people I know.”

“Thanks, Yasha,” Jester said quietly, for once not able to think of anything else to say. “Do you- Do you think Zuella would like me?”

Yasha thought for a moment, her features softening as she did so, “I think that she would,” she said, finally. “She liked things that made me happy. And you make me happy, Jester.” She smiled softly, picked up her book, and began carefully tucking all of the flowers inside.

“I’m really sorry that she died, Yasha,” Jester said, softly. “I bet she was really cool.”

“She was,” Yasha said, nodding, half-sad, half-happy.

“And I want you to know, too,” Jester went on, more serious than she’d been so far, taking Yasha’s hand between both of her own as she spoke. Yasha blinked, looking a little surprised, but did not pull away. “I know that you lost Zuella, and then we- we all lost Molly,” her voice faltered a little bit, but she kept strong, and said what she wanted to say. “But you’re not alone.”

Yasha’s expression softened a little as she said this, and that gave her the encouragement to keep going.

“We’re all here, me, and Fjord, and Caleb, and Nott, and Beau, and Caduceus, and his tea,” Yasha smiled again. “We’re your friends now. And we can’t bring Zuella or Molly back, and we can’t replace them or anything but...But you’re not alone.”

“I wanted to be,” Yasha said, softly, “For a very long time, I wanted to. I did not want people close to me again. Molly changed that for me. I think he knew that I needed people again.”

“He was a pretty smart guy about things like that,” Jester agreed.

“And he brought m to you all, and I will always be grateful to him for that,” Yasha went on. Jester had never heard her speak as much as she had done today, but she knew that she needed this, too, and kept herself quiet, letting her talk. “Even though he left...” She trailed off for a moment, swallowed, then went on, “He taught me that no matter what has happened in my past, I cannot let it stop me from living now.”

Jester nodded, “I think Molly taught us all that,” she said. “And,” she added, resting her head gently on Yasha’s shoulder, and looping her tail around her waist and squeezing gently, “I don’t think that Molly or Zuella would want you to be sad about them forever.”

“That is true,” Yasha nodded. “Zuella would want me to be happy. That was always what she wanted for me.”

She smiled and awkwardly gripped Jester’s hand, half squeezing it, half shaking it, her calluses rough against Jester’s skin.

“And I’m glad the Storm Lord saved you and brought you to us. Hey!” she exclaimed suddenly, making Yasha jump a little, “Wouldn’t it be cool if, like, the Traveller and the Storm Lord knew each other, and they were like best friends, and they talked about us, and they were like, we should totally have Yasha and Jester meet and be best friends, too, because that would be really cool!”

“That would be really cool,” Yasha agreed in that slow, solemn way of hers.

They both smiled together for a moment, then Jester, suddenly serious again, asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

Yasha rested her other hand on top of her closed book and said, “I think so, yes. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Jester. For the flowers, and, and for listening.”

“You’re very welcome!” she said, “And,” she added, leaning in and speaking behind her hand, as though they were both spies, or something, “If you ever want an awesome tattoo, you just let me know because I’m, like, _totally_ an expert now.”

“Are you really?” Yasha said, seeming genuinely interested.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed, “Orley has been teaching me for like a whole week now, and I was a complete natural, and an awesome artist to begin with, so yeah I’m amazing already!”

“Well, I think that I am okay with the ones I already have for right now,” Yasha said, seriously, “But if that changes, I will let you know.”

“You have tattoos already?” Jester gasped out.

“I do,” Yasha said, her eyes twinkling slightly, “Ask me tomorrow and I might show them to you.”

“Okay!” Jester said, feeling excited for that already, “I guess we should really sleep now, huh?” she added, suddenly realising how tired she was.

“It is very late,” Yasha said, “And it has been quite a long day.”

“Yeah. But if you need anything else, though, you just let me know, alright?” she said, trying to sound stern, and like Nott did when she was taking care of everyone.

“I will. Thank you, Jester.”

They both stood, Yasha hovering awkwardly, half-lifting her arms, then dropping them again, looking unsure.

Jester, however, knew just what to do, and bounced forward, saying, “Oh! It’s okay, Yasha, you don’t have to be shy! You can hug me if you want to! I’m a really great hugger.”

She didn’t give Yasha time to do more than open her mouth before pulling her into a big bear hug. Yasha stiffened momentarily, as though she had again forgotten what contact that wasn’t driven by violence felt like. Then she relaxed and patted Jester awkwardly on the back.

“Well, good night, Yasha!” Jester trilled, brightly, moving towards the door.

“Good night, Jester,” Yasha replied, quiet and composed.

Jester paused in the doorway and said, with a rather mischievous smile on her face, “I got some really great honeycombs in town today, and tomorrow, wer’re going to eat them both for breakfast to cheer you up some more! So get ready for that!”

And with that, she closed the door to Yasha’s cabin and skipped back to her own, satisfied that her work here was now done.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! This is a tiny ship, but I am committed to giving it some more content!! Comments are very much appreciated!!
> 
> also if you want to come hang out with me on tumblr, you can do so here: caduceusstea.tumblr.com


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